


You Give Me Fever

by Riachinko



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Incest, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 06:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4468340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riachinko/pseuds/Riachinko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After escaping a foreign planet, Morty has contracted a rash that makes him horny and delirious. Rick helps him deal. PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Give Me Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Here's some straight up fuckin' porn in the "sex pollen trope" vein. I wrote this at like 3am because I couldn't sleep and I named the file "Fuckboyyuy," so I hope that sets the tone for what you're getting into.

When he wakes, the room is dark and stuffy, his throat is sore from dehydration. It's too early in the morning to be hearing noise beyond the closed door, he guesses it's around four in the morning; good at guessing because he's used to having shitty sleep.  
  
He has a fever, he can feel it, this isn't like him, Morty knows it's not.  
  
He feels hot. He feels crazy.  
  
He knows Rick is beside him; the cot is too small for both of them to lay comfortably and he pushes back against the man, rocks his hips, moans in unison with the creak of the cot.  
  
He vaguely remembers a planet, red burning light in the sky, lots of weird plants. Remembers making it home, but barely, through the portal in the nick of time, and Rick dragging him to his room, kissing him into the mattress and telling him to go to sleep before rolling off the side of the bed and passing out drunk on the floor.  
  
Morty had lifted him to bed, had taken his coat off to use as a pillow before he, too, passed out.  
  
Rick wakes with a “Eugh” to Morty’s erratic wiggles, the shimmying out of his pants, his panting hotly against the pillow and groping himself. Morty’s side of the cot is damp, his hair matted now against his forehead and god, he’s so glad Rick woke up despite the liquor.  
  
“Rick,” Morty moans. It’s needy, needier than maybe he’s ever sounded, he can practically feel himself salivating as he says it. When he’s certain Rick is awake, he adds, “Rick, I need you.”  
  
There’s some shifting behind him, the rocking of the cot, and Rick must be blindly reaching behind them because there’s a thud, a few unknown objects clanging to the floor and a bit of hushed swearing before a dim light is turned on; the old antique lamp they found in the garage when Rick moved in.  
  
Morty turns once everything is calm, and Rick looks so, so tired, but he still smiles drunkenly, puts an arm around Morty, and he shivers - it’s the fever, he thinks, and not that Rick’s affections make his heart flutter whenever the gets the chance to stop and think about it.  
  
He’s dizzy, his vision blurs every few seconds, and despite his better judgement he wedges himself closer to Rick’s chest. Presses warm, wet lips against Rick's neck; gives him a hickey and licks salty, purpling skin as Rick hisses, "Jesus Morty, you’re burning up."  
  
His hot breath against Rick's neck nearly suffocates him, but he can’t move. Keeps kissing whatever flesh he can reach, whimpers softly as sweat drips from his nose.  
  
"God, _Rick_ ," he's not himself, he's definitely not himself.  
  
Rick finally lets his hand drift down, nails scratching from Morty’s arm, tracing down his side, lifts his shirt just enough to scratch over his stomach that quivers at the touch. The hand moves down still, to his hips, to his ass.  
  
"Goddammit Morty,” Rick’s fingers brush featherlight over his legs, and they itch, _damn_ do they itch. “I told you to stay away from the Ierosian Ivy!” He pulls his hand away quick, like he’s trying to avoid the plague, and Morty groans, pleads for more touching.  
  
“Y-you just went and got your*urrp*self roofied, dummy.”  
  
Not that Rick minds; Morty knows he doesn't. He feels Rick’s body responding to his own pressed against it; can feel Rick's cock against his stomach.  
  
Rick hesitates, but Morty whispers “Please,” and long, chapped fingers are back on him, raking down his sides and anchoring their hips together. A finger dips down, hits Morty’s hole, pushes inside, shallow, but it's dry and Morty grits his teeth. “Keep going...”  
  
Rick sniggers, brings the finger to Morty's mouth and Morty sucks on it, sloppy and boiling hot, wet enough that it won't hurt if Rick finger fucks him.  
  
Morty gasps when the finger pushes inside. His own saliva feels refreshingly cool against his skin, but it’s not enough, it’s going to drive him crazy and the crazier the feels, the more he sweats and it’s a damn miracle that Rick is putting up with him like this. He’s teasing him, though; the in and out is slow, _too_ slow,  and he doesn’t push in past the knuckle.  
  
“You want more, Morty?”  
  
His mind reels, delirious and he can’t speak. Nods his head in agreeance and bucks his hips desperately back against Rick’s hand.  
  
He’s so stupid, feels betrayed when Rick’s hand is pulled away, and he whines until Rick leans over him, kisses him to shut him up and rasps, “Cool your jets, Morty, let’s get-- do this right.”  
  
Morty closes his eyes when Rick gets up, lets his head swim in fever dreams for a minute. His fingers itch and he claws at the blankets, stretches enough to crack his back; humps the bed just to give his cock some attention. The cold sticky drip of lube along the crevice of his ass shocks him to reality, but it warms almost instantly, tingles. It smells faintly like pine.  
  
“L-lube?"  
  
"I’d make some kind of snarky remark about your observation, Morty, but the fact that you’re functioning as-- as coherently as you are is actually pretty impressive." Morty frowns but the pink in his cheeks betrays him. “S-seriously, I’ve known stronger life forms that’ve p-pretty-- pretty much, you know, turned to mush from that Ivy.”  
  
And then Rick’s cock is inside him. His body curls into Rick’s, thrusts back just right and Rick is fucking into him with skillful familiarity, drawing pink lines down Morty’s hips, crashing their hips together hard. He cover’s Morty’s mouth - a futile attempt at keeping him from making too much noise - and nips at the back of Morty’s neck. It’s amazing, but it’s not enough.  
  
He worries that if he asks for more, maybe he’ll turn to mush too, but he needs it. More, more, _more_. So he whimpers, shakes his head to break free from Rick’s hand and whispers exactly that.  
  
“More..!”  
  
Rick quickens the pace as best he can, pushes Morty’s head to the cot, hand tangling in wet hair, sending shivers down Morty’s spine like an electric current.  
  
“What do you want from me, Morty? I'm like five times your age."  
  
He breathes in damp blankets, struggles to speak, finally croaks, “More...Rick! It-- it's not enough, I want--”  
  
But Rick’s hand is back on his head, pushing him down even harder now, fucking him harder and it makes Morty light headed in the best way. He swipes a thumb over Morty’s cock, smears the precum down along the shaft, drags a fingernail lightly back up to the tip.  
  
"You think you can handle more since you're so-- so fucking _hard_ for it, _Morty_?"  
  
Rick shifts behind him, stays hilt-deep, but suddenly it’s not just _him_ there; another object is placed at Morty's asshole, slick with lube, and he sweats, tightens with uncertainty and draws a rough groan out of Rick.  
  
"Yeah, babyyy,” he drawls. “You wanna be a slut for me tonight, huh?”  
  
Searing tears finally break free from the corners of his eyes - stream down Morty’s face - and he doesn’t even know why, just buries his face in the comforter so that Rick doesn’t see. If he sees, this will all end, and it can’t, it can’t.  
  
"Rick, you-- you're gonna--”  
  
It vibrates.  
  
Morty’s eyes go wide as Rick probes him with the vibrator; it’s small enough, he assumes, and he pushes back against it. It hurts, but not _really_. It’s different; it’s weird; it’s everything he wants right now, and yet not enough still. But when Rick pulls out - slow, almost completely but not quite - drips a little bit more lube along his shaft and pushes in with the vibrator, Morty loses his mind.  
  
He moans, “Oh, oh, oh,” cries a strangled, “O-oh my god, _Rick_!” Grabs at the blankets, Rick’s lab coat, the sides of the mattress, drools, and holy fuck, holy fuck.  
  
“I know you’re fucking loving this Mo*uurp*rty, but you _gotta keep your trap shut_.”  
  
He’s close - he’s _so_ close - but he can’t help himself. He lets himself be greedy, blames it on the rash that’s bleeding up his legs, whatever insane infection this is that the planet Ieros is responsible for.  
  
"Rick, can...Two of you, I-- I want two of you."  
  
He says it louder than he’d hoped, but all of the intention is there. Something he’d thought about, in secret, for a while now. Fap material, really. But they way Rick looks at him…  
  
Squinting, skeptical, so drunk. He isn’t paying that much attention, but Morty thinks he can see a bit of a blush spread across Rick’s face.  
  
He hopes Rick hasn’t caught his fever.  
  
Rick pulls out, but he holds the vibrator in. “Keep it in there Morty, I gotta make a call,” he says, and Morty isn’t paying attention, closes his eyes once more and tries to catch his breath.  
  
It takes a couple of minutes; calls a couple of Ricks he says will probably never talk to him again (“Not that I care”), before he finds one who's cool with the proposal. A portal opens shortly after and Rick C-202 is in C-137’s stuffy little room, and Morty writhes stupidly against the blankets because he knows he’s going to be fucked so fucking good.  
  
“Hey,” his Rick says, and tosses the little bottle of lube at C-202.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
The other Rick doesn’t look any different, just seems blasé, standing there with his pants pulled down just past his hips, spittle on his bottom lip; as soon as he’s slicked up he discards the vibrator and plunges into Morty without saying another word. Morty gasps, tightens his muscles to brace against the pain, and _his_ Rick kisses him - just leans over fucking _kisses him_ sweetly.  
  
“You wanna suck grandpa off, Morty?” he says softly, teasingly, nose brushing Morty’s damp, fevered cheek, and for third time that night, Morty nods wordlessly, yes yes yes.  
  
Morty knows he’s not great at blowjobs, but he tries his best with what little brain power he has left; really wants to thank Rick for the adventure. He does what he knows: sucks as hard as he can, laps at the head and swirls his tongue - a lot easier said than done when his own cock is being pumped hard to the rhythm of the other Rick’s blind fucking.  
  
His own Rick’s cock throbs on his tongue, and Rick holds Morty down; he thinks he might choke but he can feel the man's hips quiver against his chin and he promises himself he won't gag. When Rick finally does come, he just sighs, breathy, “Yeahhh.”  
  
Morty can feel the hot liquid at the back of his throat, swallows it down. Makes a show out of licking his lips because he knows it’s what Rick likes, and it’s not long after he’s coming into Rick C-202’s hand with a howl as muted as Rick’s hand can manage.  
  
“God, M-Morty,” C-202 grunts, and Morty vaguely wonders if this Rick has a Morty, and if they do this kind of thing too…  
  
He huffs, brings his hand up to Morty's mouth. Morty licks every finger clean, he doesn't care, he’s too far gone to care, and then the hand moves down to Morty's neck and the pressure against his throat makes him tremble. He whimpers when he feels Rick buck his hips hard with finality and comes in his ass.  
  
"Congrats, 137," the other Rick says, yawning. "You got a good one."  
  
Rick waves his hand in dismissal and C-202 rolls his eyes, pulls out, zips up his pants, gets his shit together. He doesn’t bother saying anything else.     
  
A portal opens and before Morty can turn around to look, it’s just him and his own Rick together again.  
  
He moves to stand, his legs are shaky and he makes it as far as kneeling, but Rick has another toy - a plug - and Morty just stares, wide-eyed and red faced. Eyes drippy; nose drippy.  
  
He lets Rick bend him over, lets Rick put the plug in, would let Rick do anything he wants. Rick smirks, stands at the foot of the cot admiring the mess in front of him. “There better be some jizz in your ass when I fuck you tomorrow."  
  
  
  
When he wakes the next morning, the room is much too bright, he’s in his own bed and he can hear the sounds of his family in the kitchen. His fever’s gone, but the promise of Rick's words from last night haunt him - just might give him another one.


End file.
